


One for the Road

by MotherGoddamn



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherGoddamn/pseuds/MotherGoddamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt wanders into a complete dive of a bar, that is tended by one Dave Karofsky. [Complete AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	One for the Road

So, are you on autopilot or what?' Blaine asked, leaning back against the wall and clinking the glasses hanging on the rack behind him.  
  
'Huh?' Dave asked looking over at him. ‘What do you mean?’  
  
'Well, you just served that kid over there without batting an eyelid.' Blaine indicated with his head to the end of the bar. Following his gaze, Dave was surprised to see the attractive young, young boy sipping his green cocktail daintily.  
  
'Jesus,’ Dave hissed. ‘Did he take a wrong turn at the monkey bars?'  
  
'There’s no way he’s over twenty-one,' Blaine shook his head. 'He’s going to get eaten alive in here.'  
  
'Do you think, uh, I should go kick him out?' Dave rubbed at his jaw. 'Or call his mom?' He'd never had to do that before, the one thing this bar didn't get was fresh-faced twinks.  
  
'Hmm, what did he order?'  
  
'An appletini.'  
  
'An app-- Okay. Leave him for now and just challenge him if he tries to crack into the whiskey.'  
  
'What if Fullerton sees him?' Dave looked for the manager. 'Won't he kick off?'  
  
'Fullerton?' Blaine made a face. 'We'll have to pull him off the kid. Pervert.'  
  
'I don't know-- I mean this place is pretty rough for me and--'  
  
'Oh, come on!' Blaine grabbed Dave round the shoulders and gave a little shake. 'Didn't you do anything crazy when you were six?'  
  
When Dave was six, he'd made Bryan Jones eat sand for owning a  _My Little Pony_. And when he was this kid’s age, he was throwing boys that looked like him into lockers. Asking what would Dave do was never a particularly good idea.   
  
'I'm going to go make sure he's alright,' Dave grunted, trying to ignore that tingle of excitement whenever Blaine touched him. He thought he was getting over this stupid crush.  
  
'Hey,' Dave called out leaning across the counter. ‘You okay?’  
  
'Hi,' the boy smiled, and damn he was pretty. And colourful. Dave usually only saw that many reds and greens in adverts for detergent. 'Could I have another one of these? It's delicious.'  
  
'Uh, listen,' Dave moved closer to his face. 'Do you really think you should be in here? You're clearly too young--'  
  
The kid's pleasant features instantly slipped out of happy calm and into, well, bitch mode. 'Actually,' he reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, slamming it down. 'I'm not.'  
  
With a raised eyebrow, Dave looked the I.D over. 'Kurt LuPone?'  
  
A slight blush settled on the kid's face. 'Yes?'  
  
Okay. It was a good one. Fake as all hell of course, but Dave would have a convincing argument if anyone wanted to push him on it.  
  
'Fine.' Dave crossed his arms. 'Milkshake, was it?'  
  
Kurt's lips were in a tight thin line now. 'Actually, I'll have a-- a-- Manhattan!'  
  
'Really,' Dave nodded as if impressed. 'And what's in that, Twinkle?'  
  
'You're the bar-tender. Don't  _you_  know?' Kurt looked away, smoothing at a stray hair. 'Some of us go to college,' he said under his breath.  
  
The prissy little-- Dave bit his lip and grabbed a glass, resisting the urge to fill it with crushed ice and throw it over him. Nostalgia for the good old days.   
  
'Sure. Manhattan it is.' He mixed it piss-weak. 'What's next? Another one you learned off  _Sex and the City?’_  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes as he took the glass. ‘Actually, that’s a Cosmopolitan, but thanks for playing.’  
  
'So, what is this?' Dave asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 'Some first outing type thing?'  
  
‘Hmm, this is  _lovely_.' Kurt sipped at the drink, wincing and trying to keep his expression benign. ’Sorry, what?’  
  
'You know,' Dave lowered his voice. 'You punching the V card?'   
  
Kurt choked and slammed the glass down. ' _Excuse me_?'  
  
'Well,' Dave gestured round. 'This isn't exactly high society. People tend to come here for one thing. If you-- If you get me?’  
  
'I get you!' Kurt snapped. 'I'm waiting for my friends, actually. Not that it has anything to do with you.'  
  
'Yeah, this isn't really a dance around your hand-bag place, Kurt.' Dave looked up, making uncomfortable eye contact with a guy at the back. Christ, he looked like Sex Machine off  _From Dusk till Dawn._  
  
'I--' Kurt sniffed. 'I was a little surprised they picked here actually,' he admitted. 'It's a bit--'  
  
'Tacky? Meat market? Terrifying?'  
  
'Sticky,' Kurt decided on, poking at the stool beneath him. 'I was expecting something with more Gaga and less-- what is this?' He pointed up.  
  
'Cradle of Filth.' Dave said with a wince. 'Trust me. A dark part of me often yearns for Abba.' Dave frowned. 'They picked _here_?'  
  
'Do I have to prove that, too?' Kurt sighed loudly, and began flicking through his messages. With a sarcastic smirk, he showed the message to Dave. It was from some chick named Santana gushing about how happening this joint was. And that they'd met him here. Suddenly Dave had a bad feeling.  
  
'Do you know this Santana well?' he asked gently.   
  
'What?' Kurt tucked the phone back into his jeans. 'No, I met her today. And Quinn and Brittany. They are  _so_  nice! I just started college and--' Kurt's eyes widened on his slip. 'I mean,  _transferred_  from my old one, and they were the first people I met.'  
  
'And they told you to come here?' Okay. There it was. This wasn't a place  _girls_  came to. Hell, this wasn’t a place that people with all five senses came to. The club was a well known dive and Dave's pay-check was the confirmation. You came here if you wanted a blade in your kidney or something else penetrating  _somewhere_  else.   
  
Somewhere in a dorm room, Dave would wager that Santana and gang were laughing heartily over the thought of prissy fey Kurt sitting smack bang-in a leather bar. Fuck, when Dave was their age, he'd have found it funny too. If a little high brow for his tastes.  
  
'I'm sure they'll be here soon.' Kurt smiled and sipped at his drink. 'I got here a little early after all.'  
  
Dave nodded with a tight smile. Great. That was just fantastic. Did he give him the heads up that his first day of college was just as shitty as high school probably had been? Or did he let him sit here for a few hours and let it sink in?  
  
With a quick  _excuse me_ , Dave made his way back to Blaine. 'It's a prank.'  
  
'What is?' Blaine asked, pouring a vodka and rum for Sex Machine.   
  
'The kid,' Dave hissed. 'Some dumb college chick’s sent him here on a wild goose chase. Thought it’d be funny to see the fag in over his head, I guess.' At Blaine's confused expression he quickly filled him in.  
  
'Maybe you're jumping to conclusions. Maybe they  _are_  coming? Or got stuck in traffic?' Blaine handed the glass over. 'It doesn't have to be something nasty.'  
  
That was typical. Blaine would find reasons to say Jack the Ripper was just misunderstood as he was chopping up his torso.   
  
'Yeah, you're right. I keep forgetting what a huge scene this is for the college set. You wait here and I'll go put Ke$ha on the jukebox then set up the bucking bronco.'  
  
'Jeez,' Blaine crossed his arms. 'This really bothers you, doesn't?'  
  
Yeah, it bothered him. It was a little too close to the kind of shit he used to dish out himself. It had taken a long time to get out of that dark place. The last thing he needed was a reminder sitting across the bar from him.  
  
'I just think it's--' he shrugged, 'kinda shitty. That's all.'  
  
'You're adorable,' Blaine said with a grin. 'Completely adorable.' He looked round Dave's shoulders at Kurt. 'Should we give his friends half a hour and then break it gently? I could do it for you if you like.'  
  
Dave turned and watched Kurt as he frowned down at his phone, tapping out a text. As if feeling their gaze, he looked up at them.  
  
And saw Blaine.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
Dave was used to this if course. Blaine looked like an Abercombie and Fitch outtake and was so naturally sunny it was pretty much a given people flocked to him. He took home the most tips and spent the night gently knocking back patrons. Which totally wasn't fucking fair since,  _hello?_  Dave was supposed to be the desired type here.   
  
'Did you see that blush?' Blaine asked excitedly. 'I think he likes you.'  
  
He was also completely fucking oblivious.  
  
'It's not me he’s looking at,' Dave muttered picking up a glass and cleaning it so hard it was in danger of breaking.   
  
Who cared. So, a cute twink liked Blaine. He'd be running out of here crying soon, anyway. It wasn't any of Dave's concern.  


 

* * *

  
'They're not coming are they?' Kurt asked quietly, an index finger circling the rim of his glass. It was coming up to nine and Kurt had been sitting checking his cell on and off for the last hour.  
  
'I dunno, maybe you should call them again?' Nice, Dave. Draw it out. Smooth. 'Maybe they are out of range? Or something.'  
  
Kurt raised an eyebrow. 'Hmm.' He pushed the glass across. 'Don't worry. I've got the message. Can I have another, please?'  
  
Dave sighed and mixed him another drink, pretending he didn't see Kurt quickly wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand. 'Here. It's on me.'  
  
Kurt smiled gratefully. 'Thank you.' He laughed, the sound loud and bitter in the still mostly empty bar. 'God, I must look  _so_ pathetic.'  
  
'No, no. Not at all.' Dave held up his hands. 'They do. Not you. You seem a pretty cool guy. It's their loss.'  
  
'I just thought it would be different, you know. From all those neanderthals at high school. And they seemed so so-- nice!' Kurt threw up his hands. 'What's the punchline here? Am I missing it? I just--' He leant forward and rested his chin in his palms. 'I just expected something better. That's all.'  
  
'It will be. I mean, I didn't do the whole college thing, but I can promise it'll be better. Remember, high school was probably the best days of their lives. The best they'll ever get. And they don't want to fucking lose that.' Yeah, and didn't Dave know it. 'They'll cling like hell to their old selves and try to push everyone else down to do it. But people like you.' He pointed at Kurt. 'You flourish. And that threatens them. They know the tables are going to turn and it freaks them out.'  
  
Kurt sat back, looking a little stunned. Dave felt a little stunned himself. And flourish? Dave was pretty certain he had never said that word in his life.  
  
'So, what do I do when I see them tomorrow?' Kurt asked in a small voice.  
  
'Er--' Dave scratched at his neck. 'Oh! Say; hi girls! Thanks so much for the tip! The place was just darling! I met the cutest guys and rode the biggest cock! Said his name was Adam Lambert or something. And then Vivienne Westwood came in and just covered everyone in free diamonds. Smooches!' Dave coughed. 'Then walk off.'  
  
Kurt blinked 'What in the hell was that voice?'  
  
'That was my gay voice.'  
  
'Was that supposed to be an impression of  _me_? I don't have a lisp!' Kurt knocked at the counter with his knuckles. 'And I don't announce kisses!'  
  
'Do you want another drink?' Dave asked sheepishly. 'To make up for it?'  
  
'I want two!' Kurt snapped, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth.   
  
'You get one. One.' Dave held up a finger. 'Then you'd probably best be clearing out. It's quiet now but it's going to start filling up soon and--trust me this place isn't your scene.'  
  
'How do you know--' Kurt stopped, losing the energy to argue. 'Okay, it's not my scene. I kind of want to go to the bathroom but I'm scared of what I'll find.'  
  
'Oh, God. A lot of perfectly carved holes in partitions. You can use the staff one before you go,' Dave said. 'That's got one, too, but me and Blaine keep stuffing it with toilet roll.' Fucking Fullerton.  
  
'Blaine?' Kurt glanced over at the other barman. 'Is that--'  
  
'Yup!' Dave snapped out. 'Another drink?'  
  
Kurt sighed and settled his cheek on his palm. 'He is dreamy. Is he single?'  
  
'He's-- not gay. He's not gay!' Dave realised he was nearly shouting and tried to look casual. 'I mean-- totally straight.'  
  
They both looked over at Blaine, who was flipping through a copy of  _Vogue_  with an expression of pure, unadulterated rapture on his face.  
  
'Ergh, reading through  _my_  magazines again. Looking for topless girl models and, er, shit.' Dave rolled his eyes and tsked. 'Men!'  
  
'You read  _Vogue?_ ' Kurt asked surprised  
  
'Avidly! Now, about that drink?'  


 

* * *

  
  
Oh, God. This was not good. This was not good at all. Dave was not supposed to be falling for teenagers that sneaked into his dive of a bar. He was supposed to be getting his life together, doing this crappy job and taking learning courses to make up for the mess he'd made of his world in high school. This was pathetic.   
  
It didn't help that Kurt was exactly the type of kid that Dave had tortured every day at school. A walking embodiment of everything of what Dave was afraid to be. Of what he  _wanted_  to be.  
  
'You should ask him out,' Blaine shouted as the music got louder and the bar began to fill. 'Just go for it.'  
  
'Do I look like Jack Nicholson? He's about eighteen.' Dave sloshed his hand with beer and cursed in annoyance. 'Anyway, he’s going in a minute.'  
  
'It’s hardly that stunning of an age difference, Dave. Go strike while the iron is hot!' Blaine said. 'You clearly like him. You nearly took my arm off when I tried to serve him. And I haven't seen you take any money off him for drinks.'  
  
'I don't like him! I mean, I don't even  _know_  him. I just feel bad for him. That's all.'  
  
'Uh-huh. Sure.' Blaine's smile cracked. 'Oh, heads up. It's gone a bit  _Deliverance_  over there.'  
  
Dave looked up to see Kurt surrounded by a group of men. An entire herd of cows must have died to swath them in that material. He didn't like the playful smirks on their faces at all.  
  
'---no thank you. I was just visiting my friend and I'm going now, so--' Kurt stepped off the bar only to drop smack bang into one of the men's chest. 'Excuse me! Sorry!'  
  
'Why be sorry, Princess?' the man laughed, grabbing round Kurt's waist and snatching up his hand. 'Now we can have a little dance.'  
  
'No, thank you. There's no discernable beat, for one thing.' Kurt blushed and tried to disentangle himself. 'Please let go--'  
  
'Oh, look at him! He's the belle of the ball!' Another one laughed and then, goddamn him, he rubbed a palm over Kurt's ass, long and slow.  
  
'Hey, let go!' Kurt was beetroot now, slapping at the groping hand. ‘Stop it!’  
  
'Aw, she's shy, she's--'  
  
'Back the fuck off,' Dave growled. Which was weird; wasn't he meant to be standing next to Blaine? Dimly, he remembered vaulting the bar, the slight fading burn in his palms evidence of the exertion. 'He was just leaving.'  
  
'This is my friend- uh--.' Kurt stammered, and Dave realised he hadn't introduced himself. 'The friend that I told you about.' He took a quick swerve away from the men, hiding himself behind Dave's frame.   
  
The leader looked them both up and down with smug look. 'We’re just having a little fun with Quentin Crisp, here. Run along if you know what’s good for ya.’  
  
'I said,' Dave took a step forward, into the man's personal space, 'back the fuck off.'  
  
Dave was a big guy and in good shape. But he wasn't  _six_  men. He didn't think he‘d last a minute if this escalated, despite that, he wasn't one to step away from a challenge. The others slowly began to crowd round them and he felt Kurt's front gently press against his arm.  
  
'Hey guys,' Blaine called from the bar. He held up his cell phone and gave it a little jiggle. 'I have a lady on the line who wants to know which emergency service I'd like to speak to. Who should I say?'  
  
 _Don't say ambulance. Don't say ambulance._  
  
The guy looked Blaine up and down and then gave them another glance. With a sneer he jerked his head at the others. 'Come on, let’s go set up the pool table. This action ain't worth it.'  
  
Dave tried to look cool, calm and collected as they wandered away, despite wanting to break down and cry with joy that he still had knee caps. Instead he gave a superior sniff and turned to Kurt, expecting to see him staring at Blaine with shining eyes.   
  
Except-- he was staring at  _Dave_. He took a side step, just in case he was blocking Kurt's view or something. The puppy eyes followed.  
  
'That was--' Kurt smiled. 'Unbelievable.'  
  
More like suicidal, but a cute boy was staring at him like he was a demigod so Dave wasn’t going to correct anyone. “Yeah, well.’ He gave a John Wayne squint and looked off into the distance. ‘Whatever.’  
  
‘Kurt, isn’t it?’ Blaine called over. ‘My name’s--’  
  
‘You just faced them down. Like they were nothing.’ Kurt placed a hand on his own chest, over his heart. ‘You were like something out of a film.’  
  
Yeah. Forrest Gump.  
  
‘Listen, Kurt.’ Dave winced, he really wished he’d met him another night. Or seven years ago, although seven years ago he’d probably have Kurt’s head down a toilet by now. ‘You really should get out of here. This place can get pretty rough.’  
  
Kurt’s eyes flashed and if Dave didn’t know better, wasn’t sensible about these sort things, he could swear that Kurt was actually a little turned on. ‘Oh, right. Okay. Er-- now?’  
  
Dave smiled sadly. ‘Pretty much, Fancy, yeah.’  
  
‘Right, right.’ Kurt turned away and gave a firm nod. ‘Yeah.’ He shook out a hand. ‘I’ll see you around?’  
  
Gingerly, Dave took it, trying to ignore how soft the skin felt against his own. ‘I hope you make better friends tomorrow.’  
  
Kurt grinned and ducked his head shyly. ‘Me, too.’  
  
Watching him leave the bar, Dave felt disappointment weighing heavy on him. He was pretty certain that was the last he would be see of Kurt LuPone.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Except for three hours later, that was.   
  
Dave gaped as he walked out of the bar, his bag over his shoulder and aching feet ready for him to head home. ‘Kurt?’ he asked as he approached the small wall in front of the club. ‘What are you still doing here?’  
  
‘Oh, I was waiting for you.’ Kurt smiled, like waiting outside in the cold for three hours was a totally fucking normal thing to do. ‘Hello again!’  
  
‘All this time?’ Dave shook his head. ‘You’re kidding, right?’  
  
‘I realised that I never said thank you, for what you did. And I couldn’t come back in so--’ Kurt shrugged. ‘So, thank you.’  
  
Dave stared at him dumbly.  
  
‘This is where you say, you’re welcome.’  
  
‘You’re welcome.’  
  
‘And then you say, hey, how about I get you a coffee sometime?’  
  
‘How about, how old are you really?’  
  
‘I’m not sure I approve of this ad libbing,’ Kurt teased. ‘I told you. I’m twenty-one.’  
  
‘Yeah. And I’m Wayne Gretzky.’ At Kurt’s blank stare, Dave sighed. ‘Look never mind.’ He turned and moved past him. ‘Go home, Kurt. It’s a school night.’  
  
‘You know in England you only need to be eighteen to have alcohol?’ Kurt said, taking ridiculously long strides to keep up with Dave.  
  
‘Long way to go for a drink,’ Dave muttered.  
  
‘And sixteen to have sex.’  
  
‘Well, they live in  _England_. They need something to numb the pain.’  
  
‘And in Nigeria you only have to be thirteen.’  
  
Dave stopped. 'To drink or to have sex?'  
  
'Er, both I think?'  
  
'Jesus.’ He carried on walking. ‘Thanks for the trivia. But you should probably go home and delete your Internet history.'  
  
‘I’m just walking. That’s all. Enjoying this brisk Fall evening.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘Ahh!’  
  
‘Really? Sort of feels like you’re following me.’  
  
‘I'm  _not_. Merely walking in the same direction.’  
  
Dave grunted heavily and crossed the road. Kurt kept closer to him than a shadow. Biting his lip, Dave quickly crossed back.  
  
A beat.  
  
And then the sound of boots clipping against the road directly behind him.  
  
'Okay, what was that?' Dave spun round. ' _That's_  following!'  
  
'I was momentarily lost. That's all.' Kurt sniffed and placed a hand on his hip. 'I'm fine now.'  
  
'Right.‘ Dave crossed his arms. ‘Right. So which way now?'  
  
Kurt looked past him with pursed lips. ‘Over there,’ he said with a point.  
  
‘Argh,’ Dave covered his face. ‘Kid, seriously. What are you doing?’  
  
‘I’m not a kid!‘ Kurt bristled. ‘Okay, so I’m not twenty-one, I’m eighteen.‘ Knew it. ‘But that’s hardly a kid. And I just-- I like you I guess.’ What?  _Yes_! No wait. That was bad. Not good. At all. ‘And you were really nice to me and then you took on about thirty men and saved me!’ Exaggerate much? ‘I’d just really, really like to go back to your place if you don’t mind.’   
  
‘I’m-- what?’  
  
‘Your place.’ Kurt inspected his nails primly. ‘What’s wrong with that?’  
  
‘Kurt! I’m not just going to randomly take you home! I don’t know you.You don’t know me, hell, you don’t even know my name!’  
  
‘Yes, I do. You said earlier. It’s Wayne Gretzky.’  
  
‘That’s not-- My name’s  _Dave Karofsky!_  And no, you can’t come home with me. Jesus!’ Dave shoved his left hand in his pocket and pulled the strap of his bag tightly of the other. His heart was pounding and his head felt like it was going to explode. People didn’t hit on Dave. Not people like Kurt anyway, this must be what it felt like to be Blaine.  
  
'You’re wrong, you know. I have no V card to punch,’ Kurt called out, following fast. ‘So don’t be worried on that score.’  
  
‘Oh, what a load off! I’ll alert the world press.’  
  
‘I’ve had intercourse on many, many occasions.’  
  
‘Don’t-- Please don’t call it that.’ Dave was close to running now.  _Go away, cute boy. Just fuck off._    
  
‘And they all went very well. Everybody involved was very satisfied.’  
  
‘Fuck. Is this you trying to seduce someone? You sound like you’re selling a used car.’  
  
‘Okay. Maybe it wasn’t many, many.’ Kurt coughed. ‘And it didn’t always go smoothly.’  
  
‘Not listening, dude. I’m not listening.’  
  
‘Fine! It was just the one time and it was  _horrible_.’  
  
‘Kurt, will you--’  
  
‘I think it probably only counts as a portion of my virginity. So I’m like the  _Diet Coke_  equivalent of a virgin.’  
  
‘Kurt!’ Dave turned sharply on his heel, but his angry words, whatever the hell they were going to be, died on seeing the expression on Kurt’s face.  
  
‘ I just-- I don't want to go back to my dorm,’ he said in a small voice. 'At least, not yet.'   
  
Dave rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Okay, sure. What harm would it do? He was certain he could handle a gorgeous eighteen year old flirting with him in his own home. What was he worried about?  
  
‘Fine. You can come back to mine. You can have  _one_  drink. One. And it’s going to be non alcoholic.'  
  
Dave was going to regret this.  


 

* * *

  
  
Dave was wrong. He  _should_  be regretting this. He should be feeling like a middle aged asshole circling a Ferrari with credit card and a ponytail. Instead, he felt relaxed, chilled and kinda happy.  
  
As well as good looking, Kurt was  _fun_. He had a quiet self deprecating humour with tangents into sarcasm and bitchiness, that Dave couldn’t help but enjoy. He talked about what he had endured at his high school with dignity and a bravery Dave admired, and he listened intently when Dave told him about his own experiences.  
  
And for once Dave didn’t sugar coat it, or throw in excuses. He didn’t litter his sentences with apologies or what might have beens. He just told it as blunt as it was.   
  
It was a little bit freeing.  
  
‘But are you okay now?’ Kurt asked, curled up on the couch and a (soft) drink clasped between his fingers.   
  
‘You mean am I planning on pantsing you anytime soon?’ Dave was sure that all of his furniture groaned in embarrassment when that fell out of his mouth. Then again maybe they were just embarrassed because a majority of them were wicker.   
  
Kurt waggled his eyebrows with smirk. ‘Maybe I wouldn’t mind.’  
  
Eyebrow waggling. Actual honest to God eyebrow waggling. Dave never thought he’d have  _that_  directed at him. Not even in his daydreams about Blaine. Of course, eyebrow waggling from Blaine might work up enough wind to devastate a nearby town.  
  
‘I er--’ He knew he should be saying one of two things here. Either, get the fuck out or something smooth and sexy. ‘Heh.’ Or, he could go with option three. Sound like a fucking moron.  
  
‘No, seriously. Are you okay,’ Kurt placed his drink on the coffee table and edged closer, his hand on Dave’s knee. ‘It sounds like you had it rough.’  
  
‘Actually, everyone  _around_  me had it rough. I was just making my life and everyone in it miserable.’ Dave tried not to focus on the warm heat sinking in through his jeans. ‘It was a pretty shitty time, it took me awhile to just get my head together. Stop hiding in the closet and dragging the world in with me. But yeah, yeah.’ Dave smiled softly. ‘I’m okay now.’  
  
‘That’s good,’ Kurt breathed, and when the fuck had he gotten so close? Dave was going cross eyed trying not to stare at his mouth.  
  
 _Dave, you’re a twenty-five year old man. This boy is eighteen and admitted to you he collects the_ Sisterhood of Travelling Pants _novels. This does not a one night stand make._  
  
No. He didn’t want this to be a one night stand. And that was worse, wasn’t it?  
  
‘I think you’re really brave, you know, to come through all that. It can’t have been easy but you weathered it.’  
  
‘Kurt, I was just like those assholes that sent you here tonight. Probably worse.’ Dave pushed out with his hands. ‘I was more shovey. Trust me. You would have hated me if we went to school together.’  
  
Kurt nodded as he considered it. ‘Probably.’ And shit, did  _that_  hurt. ‘But we didn’t go to school together. I guess I skipped your cocoon stage and got the butterfly.’ They both sort of cringed at that and Kurt hurried on. ‘I mean, you sort of give me hope. That maybe all those people that look down on me will one day end up like  _you_. Knowing how they’ve hurt others and try to--well, make amends.’  
  
Dave nodded. ‘Maybe. Not all of them, though. Everyone has different demons to face, Kurt. Plus, some people are just fucking assholes.’  
  
Kurt laughed and leaned in closer. ‘Can I kiss you, Dave,’ Kurt asked, his eyes bright and a heady mixture of green and blue.   
  
‘I don’t-- I’m not sure.’ Oh, for God’s sake, Dave. You’re not a freakin’ nun. ‘Okay.’ Dave felt himself numbly nod, and watched as those pink lips came closer, then disappeared from his view as they pressed against his own. Soft at first, but the harder and more insistent.   
  
Hands slipping down Kurt’s back, he leant backward on the sofa and pulled him on top of him. The mood quickly changed from lazy making out to something more, something charged. Dave’s hands made their way down to Kurt’s ass and he ran them over his jean clad cheeks, squeezing and cupping as Kurt moaned into his mouth.  
  
‘Wait--’ Dave gasped breaking the kiss, and moaning as Kurt pressed his hardness against his own. ‘I don’t want to do this.’  
  
‘I--what?’ Kurt pulled back, his hair in disarray and his lips red and bruised. The confidence seemed to completely ebb out of his eyes and every insecurity that was possible eagerly took its place. ‘Oh, I thought-- You seemed to be enjoying it.’ Any moment now, Kurt’s nervousness was going to go straight into defensiveness. And wasn’t that odd? That Dave felt like he knew him so well already.  
  
‘I mean that I don’t want to do this if it’s just going to be tonight.’ Dave managed. ‘I’d-- I’d quite like to take you for that coffee.’ Another first for Dave. Asking someone out while they grinded their penis against yours.  
  
It was worth it for the grin that spread across Kurt’s face. ‘I’d really, really like that.’ He leant down and kissed Dave again, slowly and sensuously.   
  
‘I feel we’ve skipped a few steps here,’ Dave murmured into Kurt’s mouth. ‘The date usually comes first.’  
  
‘Oh,’ Kurt laughed softly. ‘Well, I’ve always been advanced for my age.’ He began to kiss along Dave’s jaw line nipping with his teeth as he went.  
  
‘Really,’ Dave moaned as he worried at Dave’s earlobe. ‘And-- no, wait!’ He moved away from Kurt’s tongue. ‘How advanced? Not skipped grades advanced? You’re not going to tell me you’re a fourteen year old genius, are you?’  
  
‘Oh, my God! Dave!’ Kurt laughed. ‘I was just trying to sound smooth. You need to get over this age hang up. Like now!’  
  
‘Ah, hmm. Okay. You can carry on now.’ At that Kurt gave him a small swat in his arm, before lowering himself back down to kiss Dave again.  
  
Shifting, Dave’s hands found the zipper of Kurt's jeans, sliding it down, the sound strangely erotic in the quiet of the tiny room. Kurt bit Dave’s bottom lip as his fingers slipped inside the boxers and grabbed his cock tightly. "Please," he gasped, in a strained, strangled voice.   
  
Groaning, Dave forced himself to let go. Bringing his hand to his mouth he licked the palm, coating it in salvia as Kurt watched him with blown pupils. He should have felt ridiculous, but somehow it was making him even harder. Satisfied it was wet enough he moved his hand between their bodies again, gripping Kurt’s length and running his palm up and down, speeding his actions on each harsh jerk.  
  
Shakily, Kurt's own hand moved over Dave’s front, sliding down the zipper, slipping inside and freeing Dave’s cock from his underwear. Before he could encircle it with his fingers, Dave pushed his fingers away and brought their erections together, pulling them both off in tight, rapid tugs.  
  
‘Oh, God!’ Kurt exclaimed, his palms running up and down Dave’s chest in desperate patterns. He fisted the material of Dave's shirt tightly between his fingers and began to buck almost wilding into Dave’s clenched hand. The sight above Dave was enough to send him over the edge. Pretty soon, Dave’s skin began to feel three sizes too small and he knew he was swiftly approaching his release.   
  
Kurt was ahead of him, though. ‘Dave! Oh!‘ he cried as he arched up into Dave’s hand and came with a silent cry into his mouth, their tongues fighting for dominance. Dave broke the kiss, raising his head as his orgasm ran through him and he came with a loud, strangled shout.   
  
Breathing Kurt's name into his ear, his body shuddered from the efforts of his coming.  _Jesus,_  he thought,  _this night certainly picked up._  
  
Kissing Kurt's closed lids he murmured quiet, incoherent endearments into his hot, perspiring skin. After a few moments of their breathless embrace, Kurt pressed his head to Dave’s chest and listened to the rapid beat of his heart as it came down from their exertions.  
  
‘Wow,’ Kurt whispered at last. ‘That was--’  
  
‘Yeah, I know.’  
  
‘And they get to do that in England from  _sixteen_.’  
  
‘Don’t ruin the moment and bring up Nigeria.’  
  
Kurt laughed and rested his chin on Dave’s chest, looking up at him with a mischievous grin. ‘I guess I really do owe Santana a thank you, now.’  
  
‘I wouldn’t try the lisping, though,’ Dave said. ‘Apparently it’s  _offensive._ ‘  
  
‘Cute, though.’ Kurt pressed his lips together. ‘Could I-- Would it be okay if I stayed here, tonight?’  
  
‘Are you trying to make those bitches think you’re dead in a ditch and it’s all their fault?’  
  
‘What? No, but that is  _stunning!_  Hmm, I wonder if I could fake a news report?’   
  
‘Sure.’ Dave wrapped his arms tight round him, running his fingers along his back. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the most ideal of situations, or maybe Kurt was right and he was too hung up on this age thing, either way, he hadn’t felt this positive about something in a long time. ‘You can stay if you want, Kurt LuPone.’  
  
‘Ah,’ Kurt blushed. ‘About that--’  


 

**The End**

 


End file.
